


Moon and Shadow

by beautifulterriblequeen



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Dragons are Scary, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I know I skipped the actual rescue, Lots of Hurt, M/M, Moonshadow Marauders, Moonshadow elves, Prince Runaan, Rescue in progress, Runaan proposes, That'll be a prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21710665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifulterriblequeen/pseuds/beautifulterriblequeen
Summary: Prince Runaan has saved Ethari from a dark market across the Katolis border, but Sol Regem has a grave concern and refuses to let them both re-enter Xadia.
Relationships: Ethari/Runaan (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 65
Kudos: 194





	1. A Moonshadow Proposal

“I smell death.” Sol Regem’s hot breath huffed from his nostrils in disdain, blowing Runaan and Ethari’s hair back and coating them in the scent of sun-baked stone.

Runaan shifted Ethari’s weight against his shoulder, supporting the heavy, exhausted elf around the waist, and glared up at the blinded Sun Archdragon. In the late afternoon light, his bony crown was silhouetted against the sky's golden glow. Runaan had hoped the stench of what Ethari had suffered wouldn’t reach the dragon’s sensitive nose. “Let us pass. He was attacked by humans. I’m taking him home.”

The sun-crowned dragon let a soft, threatening growl ease through his teeth. “No.”

Slumped against Runaan’s shoulder, Ethari sucked in a deep enough breath to speak. “Runaan, I should’ve told you—”

Runaan immediately turned his face toward Ethari, though he kept his eyes on the looming dragon. “I know what they did to you,” he murmured. “We don’t need to speak of it. Not here.”

Ethari shook his head slightly, still weak with exhaustion. “No, you don’t under—”

“You can both perish here, together, assassin,” Sol Regem interrupted, “or you can leave the tainted one and return to your princely duties. Surely your father would not wish for you to stain the family honor so ignominiously as to die in the arms of a _blood traitor_.” The dragon’s heavy lip curled. “Choose. Or I _will_ choose for you.”

Runaan’s breath fled. His eyes flew wide as his spine shot full of chills. The world spun out in a whirlwind from his mind. Ethari at his side, warm and sturdy, and the Moonshadow Forest beyond, where all his people lived and fought and loved. Where his father expected him to uphold the honor of the royal house and all the Moonshadow elves as well, for all Xadia to see. Where he had grown up, cold and aloof and alone, the perfect prince, primed to serve as the leader of the honorable assassin squad in the Silvergrove near the human border, striding into the night wherever his father pointed.

But in the Silvergrove, he had met Ethari. And the ice in his heart had begun to crack and melt. He craved the craftsman’s warmth, sucked it deep into his soul and let it ease his oldest hurts. Over the last year, safe in Ethari’s arms, that ice in his heart had become warm tears of joy.

Ethari at his side. Runaan had never wanted anything more.

But the Forest lay beyond. Runaan could feel the siren tug of duty on his soul. He closed his eyes. Let out all his breath. Pulled Ethari tight against him, and kissed his temple.

In the aching emptiness of oxygen deprivation, Runaan let his darkest instincts have their way. They’d always protected him, even at the cost of others. When he opened his eyes, he knew what he had to do.

He kept his voice as cold as iron. “May I have a moment to say goodbye?”

Sol Regem snorted disdainfully. “Make it quick, and so will I.”

“Runaan, I’m so sorry…” Ethari’s murmur broke into a sob, and he tried to push Runaan away from him. “I never should have gone with them. But it’s all right, you need to return—”

“Ethari.” Runaan seized him by the shoulders to get him to stop talking. One hand lifted to cup his cheek, and he gazed lovingly into Ethari’s sunset eyes.

Ethari’s dark brows lifted softly, and his lower lip trembled as he leaned into Runaan’s palm.

“Ever since I met you,” Runaan began, “you’ve been hammering my heart at your forge. You’ve shaped me and made me stronger. The work of your hands has refined and purified my soul. If there is any beauty in me, Ethari, it is because you crafted it there. Your patience with my imperfections has made me love you more deeply than I knew I could. You are the light in my darkness. Without you, I am only shadow, too well suited to my appointed duties. I am the night, but you are my moon, and I would cradle you in my arms every night if I could, just to ease your way until the dawn.”

Runaan would’ve kept talking, but Ethari’s face crumpled with happy tears, and he laughed, brushing them away. “You should be this charming with everyone. It looks good on you.”

Runaan settled himself with a steadying breath before replying or he’d tear up, too. “There is a question I have been wanting to ask you for some time. But I suddenly find myself in a desperate hurry. So, before I must part with you one last time, I… I would like to know what your answer is.”

Ethari blinked and stood straighter, and his breathing sped up. His soft smile broke into a teary grin.

Runaan kissed him softly. Their mouths moved together, warm and sweet, tasting each other, and Ethari leaned into him, sliding his arms around Runaan’s waist, drinking him in. Reluctantly, Runaan broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against Ethari’s.

 _Moment of truth._ He eased a breath in, filling his chest, feeling his heart thrumming, and leaned in to whisper his question in Ethari’s ear.

_“Can you run?”_

Ethari’s strong hands spasmed around Runaan’s waist, and he pressed his temple against Runaan’s. His next few breaths were deeper as he gathered his strength, mindful of the dragon who still waited to incinerate him. Finally, he pulled back and met Runaan’s eyes again. “Yes, Runaan. My answer is yes.”


	2. Moonshadow Leaps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Runaan and Ethari get separated. The prince needs a quick way back to his beloved.

Runaan gripped Ethari’s hand tightly. “Then run with me, and don’t look back.” He flowed into motion, pulling Ethari with him, and darted directly under Sol Regem’s chest, trailing his long ponytail behind them.

Sol Regem reared his head in surprise at the sound of their footsteps darting toward him. He growled in mild irritation and swiped a massive paw in their direction. “Insolence.”

Runaan skidded to a halt and swung Ethari around like a pendulum, leaping back the other direction with him and barely missing the dragon’s claws. He pointed ahead to a narrow slit in the rocks where they might squeeze through and leave the dragon behind long enough to find escape or shelter.

They didn’t make it that far. Sol Regem stomped after them, let out a sharp growl, and sucked in a massive breath. The slender gap was too far away for Ethari to reach before the dragon scorched them to death. Runaan read the terrain with desperate eyes, seeking any way to keep his beloved safe.

 _There_.

He jinked to the left and tugged Ethari after him. Pulling Ethari into his arms at the edge of a dropoff, he kissed him hard and murmured against his lips, “Forgive me.”

“Runaan…?”

With swift fingertips, Runaan toppled Ethari off the edge of the low overhang. The craftsman landed on the gentle sandy slope with a yelp and rolled safely toward the barren stone below.

Runaan had no time to watch his descent, though. Sol Regem’s fire was coming for him. The hot rush of dragonflame roared across the stone behind him.

For one crystalline moment, Runaan felt the sheer perfection of life and death in his soul. If he didn’t make his next leap perfectly, he would die. Every beat of his heart sent tingles down his spine and along his horns. A Moonshadow was never more alive than when he was closest to death.

Runaan sprang out into thin air, arms outstretched, hair flying, turquoise eyes locked on his target.

Sol Regem’s flame blackened the spot where he’d been standing. Its heat breathed down his neck as he flew through the air.

As he soared toward the one thing that could save him, he glanced down, losing sight of it. Ethari sprawled below the fire, safe in a cool pocket of air, propped up on one elbow, staring up at him. And then the flames poured between them.

Runaan sighted his target again: a dead snag that had grown out of the canyon’s sheer cliff face long ago and since perished. He could only hope that it still had enough strength in its sinews to bear him up. His right hand caught hold of it, and it bent and cracked under his weight. He swung hard, angling into an upward swing, and arched hard as he let go.

The dragon’s flame consumed the snag, turning it to ash as Runaan flailed upward alongside the sheer cliff’s bare orange stone. His eyes raked its surface for handholds and landing spots, and just as he reached the top of his arc, he found one. He grasped a narrow outcrop of stone, pivoted tightly, and landed with perfect balance in a crouch atop a short ledge forty feet above the dragon’s deadly scorch marks.

Sol Regem’s fiery breath had faded, and Runaan could see Ethari far below, picking himself up from his sandy tumble. His heart eased, and his shoulders relaxed. Ethari was safe. For the moment.

But just as he began scanning the area for the next stage of their escape, Sol Regem stumped closer to Ethari’s location. The dragon’s snout was raised high, and he sniffed at the air.

“I can still smell the blood traitor, assassin. There is nowhere you can hide him from me.”

Runaan and Ethari immediately looked at each other. Dozens of feet separated them. A single freefall would reunite them, but even Runaan couldn’t manage a straight leap of that height onto stony ground without significant injury. He needed a safer way down, and in a hurry. His eyes slid to the dragon.

The ledge where he crouched was barely wide enough to fit his feet on, but he stood up and let the wind tug through his hair, setting more of his scent loose for the dragon to find. “I’m not hiding. If you want to take someone today, you might as well take a prince.”

Sol Regem raised his head and grimaced toward Runaan’s voice. “Protecting a blood traitor with your very life when you should be sent out to take him? Your father will be so disappointed in you.”

As the dragon’s head reared back for a biting strike that would surely crush him against the cliff, Runaan offered a tight smile and replied, “He usually is.”

With a roar, Sol Regem struck toward Runaan, intent on killing him. Runaan gathered himself and leaped out into nothingness again. Just as he began his freefall to the stone far below, Sol Regem’s bony crown rushed up to meet his boots.

Runaan sprang from its uplift and spun in midair, tracking Ethari with his sharp gaze. The assassin landed on Sol Regem’s angled back and skidded across his golden scales, hair flying. He couldn’t help but grin into the wind as he slid along the dragon’s back as easily as if he rode down a steep snowy hill. Above him, the dragon jerked himself to a halt to avoid the empty cliff face. Below, Ethari stared up at Runaan in shock.

Runaan pointed past Ethari to the sandy slope at the far end of the pit he’d pushed him into. Ethari nodded and began running. Sol Regem’s head reared around, trying to snatch Runaan off his back like an irritating pest. Runaan leaped and twirled, springing off of Sol Regem’s back knee, angling toward Ethari.

His landing was so hard that it knocked the breath out of him, but he rolled to his feet and chased after Ethari anyway. He caught Ethari’s hand in his as he darted past the sturdier elf, tugging him along with him.

“You’re bloody mooncrazy,” Ethari puffed.

“You just agreed to marry me,” Runaan panted back. They cleared the sandy slope and bolted together across the hot stone of the canyon floor. “What does that say about your preferences?”

“I… what?” Ethari nearly tripped, and Runaan had to slow down to keep him from falling. “I thought you were just stalling.”

Runaan merely glanced over at Ethari with a chuckle and ran faster.


	3. Moonshadow Diplomacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never meddle in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy when you fall hard.

Behind Runaan and Ethari, Sol Regem roared angrily and felt his way around the edge of the pit’s edge, desperate to track them by sound and smell. Crumbling stone and furious growls echoed around the canyon. Runaan was all for dashing straight out the far end of the canyon, but Ethari just couldn’t keep up after what he’d endured. He gripped Runaan’s hand and planted his feet, swinging Runaan behind a large boulder at the edge of the canyon wall.

“I can’t,” he wheezed. “I need to catch my breath.”

Runaan instantly shifted his focus, resting a hand on Ethari’s shoulder and cupping his cheek again. The craftsman’s body was shuddering with effort. Runaan eased him down into a sitting position with his back against the rusty orange cliff. “Sit still and breathe. I’ll buy you time.”

Ethari’s sudden grip on Runaan’s wrist was surprisingly strong for an elf who couldn’t take another step. “No, not yet,” he said between gasps. “He’s not found us yet. Wait with me, Runaan.” His fingers squeezed Runaan’s wrist.

Runaan’s brows bent, and he eased out of his squat by dropping one knee to the stone and resting it reassuringly against Ethari’s thigh. “I’m with you.”

“I… I need to tell you something, Runaan. About when they had me.”

“You don’t need to say a word, Ethari. I don’t care what happened. We came to rescue you, and that’s what we did. If I’d found you in pieces, I’d still have brought you home.”

Ethari looked down. “Runaan… I… I _am_ —”

Sol Regem’s roar was far too close for comfort. Runaan kissed Ethari hard, though he held his face gently. “Stay here,” he breathed. With light fingers, he stole Ethari’s scarf from around his neck and draped it around his own. And then he was off, dashing across the canyon floor, leaping through its blazing heat.

The Sun Archdragon’s heavy tread marched toward Runaan. The assassin leaped up along a series of boulders until he stood atop a narrow pillar of stone in the center of the canyon floor. A prime position from which a prince might speak to a former king. “Sol Regem,” Runaan called.

The dragon jerked his head around as his scent tracking led him toward Runaan, and he focused on Runaan’s clarion voice. “Have you come to beg for mercy, princeling?”

“No. To give it.” Runaan glanced toward Ethari. The winded elf’s eyes were locked onto him from a hundred feet away.

Sol Regem’s rough laughter rocked the canyon. “Only a prince of the Moonshadow elves would be so delightfully arrogant in the face of his own death. What would you give me this boon of mercy in exchange for?”

Runaan eyed the dragon’s throat. His fire breath was half recharged. But Ethari was too exhausted to run yet. Runaan would need to be particularly charming. And, he recalled with a tight grin, Ethari _had_ just asked him to be.

 _Diplomacy it is._ “Great dragon, we crossed into Katolis in the night, while you slept, in search of Ethari, my beloved. But my bodyguards—my friends—stayed behind to give us time to escape once we realized how injured Ethari was. They couldn’t reach us before dawn, so they’re waiting to cross the Moonstone path tonight. The sun will set soon. They’re no assassins, but they are guardians, with much of the same training.”

Sol Regem whuffed in grumpy amusement. “Are you trying to threaten me, little prince?”

Far to the side, Ethari had shifted forward onto one hand, intent. He was getting his breath back, but not quickly. Runaan kept his tone light as he replied, “Not at all. You see, the rest of their palace instruction involved far more than simply battle tactics. They learned politics and diplomacy, as I did. They won’t need to slay you in your sleep. They can tiptoe past you and destroy you with a few words whispered into the right ears. Word will reach Avizandum and Zubeia soon enough. How certain are you of your ability to survive a vote of no confidence regarding your border patrol? Surely there are much worse places you might be tasked with guarding. The Shadowvalleys, perhaps. Your one chance to survive this with your own honor intact is to let me go. And I won’t go without Ethari. Let us pass, and you can keep your post here at the border.”

Sol Regem’s breath rumbled harshly. “You say you do not threaten, but that is all your words contain. I was mistaken. Your father would be very proud of your malicious ways, after all.”

Runaan gritted his teeth at that reference, but his shoulders slumped in relief, and he began to hope.

“ _If_ he ever heard the tale,” Sol Regem growled, “which he will _not_. This border is mine to defend as I see fit! And I say that no dark magic-tainted being, whether elf or human or even dragon, shall pass me by. If you dare stand between me and my _justice_ , Prince of the Moonshadows, then you doom yourself. Yourself, your beloved, _and your friends_.”

Runaan barely had time to leap from the rocky pinnacle before Sol Regem’s beefy paw slammed into the sunset-hued stone, destroying it and sending sharp-edged chunks larger than Runaan thundering after him. He crashed to the canyon floor in a tumble of thudding boulders and felt one of them carom off his head and shoulder, knocking him flat. More stone rained around him, and he covered his head with his arms. But the world shifted into gray tones and went dark. His last thought was for Ethari.

_Run, just run._


	4. Moonshadow Ecstasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home. Eternity. They are one.

Sound returned first, as it always did upon regaining consciousness. Ethari’s voice, somewhere close. Shouting. “You said it was either me or both of us. So take me! Do it now, and spare him. Let him wake, let him live. Please.”

_No_.

Runaan forced his eyes open. The afternoon sun spangled his vision, and he turned toward the sound of Ethari’s voice. Pain started registering right about then. The low banging throb of head trauma. The high sharp sting of cut flesh. The warm stickiness of blood. The hot swelling of damaged muscles.

Runaan winced against all that unwanted data and sought Ethari. His eyes reluctantly focused on the sturdy elf, standing not four feet in front of him with his back turned. Ethari held his fists tightly at his sides. They were reddened with blood.

_My blood. He tried to wake me and couldn’t. He doesn’t know if I’ll make it. But he’s bargaining for my life with his._ The sheer strength of Ethari’s will dazzled Runaan amidst the cacophonous symphony of his various pains.

But the moment required more than Moonshadow romance, so he shifted his focus past Ethari. Sol Regem loomed high overhead, poised like the king he had once been. From where Runaan lay, the dragon’s bony crown perfectly ringed Ethari’s head. He should get up. He should stand beside Ethari. But he couldn’t remember how—everything hurt too much.

That wasn’t good enough. Not for any Moonshadow, let alone a prince. _No. I’m getting up._

“Very well.” Sol Regem’s rumble interrupted Runaan’s attempt to gather himself. “The ungrateful prince will live.” The archdragon shifted his weight, and his massive tail swung around.

_GET UP!_ Runaan lurched to his feet and launched himself at Ethari from behind. He collided with the surprised elf and yanked him airborne a moment before the dragon’s tail found them both.

Weightlessness offered some small protection from Sol Regem’s strike, and that, along with the directionality and rotation of Runaan’s jump, seemed just enough not to kill them both. Runaan felt Ethari’s arms pull him in and hold him fiercely as Sol Regem’s tail flung them wide across the canyon. He clung to Ethari too, burying his face in his beloved’s neck and protecting his head with one arm.

“I love you.”

Had Ethari spoken, or had he? Perhaps both, or neither. Perhaps their souls were simply passing into the beyond together in their last moment on earth, shimmering at the same frequency as they both tried to die protecting each other. Perhaps they were both failing. Or succeeding.

_Does it matter?_ Runaan’s heart knew it didn’t. Pain and bliss swirled in his mind at a speed to fast to track. He thought he’d felt fully alive in the moment when he’d proposed to Ethari under threat of death. He thought that deciding whether to leap away from Sol Regem’s dragonflame had been as pure a moment as a Moonshadow could experience. But dying with his beloved, cradled in each other’s arms, knowing their love would transcend death itself, was a whole new level of Moonshadow ecstasy.

_Home. Eternity. They are one._

The elves crashed down together, clinging tight, rolling fast, skidding. Runaan used his feet to push them safely away from boulders. Ethari wrestled his way into being on the bottom and taking the skid against his back, and Runaan had to let him—he couldn’t have bested Ethari at brute strength even if he hadn’t just had a stone tower dropped on him.

With twin groans, the elves came to a heavily bruised stop in each other’s arms, shoulders knocking hard against the canyon wall. In a haze of pain, Runaan clung tightly, afraid that once he let go, he’d see that Ethari had breathed his last keeping him alive.

“Runaan? Still with me?” Ethari’s voice was faint and tight with pain.

Runaan’s head popped up sharply, and though he instantly regretted it due to the sheer amount of agony it caused, he had eyes only for Ethari. The craftsman’s cheek bore a series of rough cuts, and one horn tip had been sanded away in their epic skid across the canyon floor. But he was smiling up at Runaan, very much alive, sunset eyes sharp with concern. Runaan’s heart leaped. “Always. _Always_.”

“Good. Because I think we—” Ethari broke off suddenly as he looked up past Runaan’s head. “Look out!”

As Runaan twisted to look up behind him, he briefly caught sight of a narrow outcrop overhead before Ethari grabbed him by his tunic, slammed him into the very corner of the canyon wall and its floor, and hunkered over him protectively. With wide eyes, Runaan saw Sol Regem’s claws drag across the cliff face far overhead and send a shower of rock fragments tumbling down against Ethari’s back.

Runaan whipped Ethari's scarf free and cradled his head close, protecting them both with its softness. “Ethari, I love you—”

Once again, his world went dark.


	5. Moonshadow Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of hurt/comfort.

“I love you too, Runaan.” Ethari’s breath was faint and hot against Runaan’s neck.

Runaan’s hands ached and bled from his plummet and subsequent skid across the hot canyon floor, but he steadied Ethari’s face against his own, pressing cheek to cheek. _This elf simply will not die. I can’t believe it. Is he holding up the whole mountain?_ "Don’t move. Give me a moment to assess.”

“T-take all the time you need.” Ethari’s voice was taut with effort.

Runaan pulled the dust-laden scarf from over their heads and let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Stone had fallen all around them, blocking the late afternoon sun from view, but a few tiny beams poked through the rockfall. The mote-filled beams dimly lit a small cavern in sunset hues beneath the shallow outcrop that had sheltered them from a direct hit. The avalanche that Sol Regem had unleashed had bounced around the outcrop and created a small pocket of safety, hidden from the dragon’s sight. The rocks had pinned the elves’ legs and poured across Ethari’s back, but they were still alive.

Again. Still.

Runaan felt gingerly along Ethari’s head and horns, and across his arms, shoulders, and back. “Are you… more hurt than you were two minutes ago?” Runaan asked.

Ethari tensed against Runaan, and Runaan felt his legs shift under the stone just a bit. “I might still be able to walk. But I’d really like to put this mountain down. I've been more comfortable than this falling out of a tree. And you're having to bear my weight as well. I'm worried there's some crushing.”

Runaan pressed a soft kiss against his cheek. “I just proposed marriage, Ethari. Crushing is a valid response. Besides, we both know how you like it when you get me where you want me.”

Ethari’s grateful amusement came out as a breathy smile against Runaan’s cheek. “I very much enjoy pinning you down, when you let me. And I hope to enjoy it again in the future. But we may be here a while yet. I think we can move further into that bit of open space, though. If I lift up a bit, can you slide free?”

Runaan’s fingers clenched against Ethari’s shoulders. “Ethari, you can’t lift—”

The deep orange rock began to shiver around the muscular craftsman, and Runaan felt a slight lessening of weight against him.

“ _Ethari_ …”

“ _Nnghh_. Hurry now.”

Runaan hadn’t assessed the rockfall for stability yet, but he wasn’t about to make Ethari hold up a mountain for him any longer than was necessary. He scrambled backward, kicking and slipping, dragging himself out from under Ethari’s rock-enhanced weight. Ethari collapsed to the ground the moment Runaan was free, and despite his injured hands, Runaan spun onto his knees and began pulling rocks from atop him. The rockfall grumbled warily as Runaan shifted it off Ethari’s legs a few stones at a time, but it didn’t collapse. “Take my hands.” In the dimness, he and Ethari clasped hands, and Runaan pulled for all he was worth, freeing Ethari’s feet from the last few inches of the rockfall. Runaan’s injured shoulder burned, his hands cramped and ached, and his head throbbed so hard that his vision went dark. Ethari stifled a cry as he slid free.

That did start a minor avalanche, and Runaan scrambled back, pulling Ethari after him as the rocks poured closer to them like an angry firestripe stalking into a cave after a meal. Runaan pulled Ethari into his arms as he fell onto his back, turning to shelter him as he’d sheltered Runaan. For the first time Runaan could remember, he actually managed to overpower Ethari and hold him down.

The falling orange rocks plinked against his boots and stopped. A tiny, dusty pocket of air remained, right against the cliff face, with just enough space for the elves to lie in each other’s arms and cling tightly. Runaan pressed his temple against Ethari’s and waited for the world to end. But once again, miraculously, it didn’t.

He pulled back and pressed a soft kiss against Ethari’s forehead. “Still with me?”

Ethari’s fingers dug into Runaan’s tunic. “Always.”

Runaan knelt beside him and pulled a small, glowing blue crystal from a pouch on his belt. “Let me look at you, you handsome idiot. What have you done to yourself?”

“S-saved me a husband, I hope,” Ethari replied.

Runaan squeezed his hand gingerly and smiled. “That was my plan, too.” He stripped off what remained of his damaged gloves and set them aside. His hands had a tremble now, and they stung and ached and bled. A few of his fingers didn’t work exactly the way they should. But he needed his hands to reassure himself that Ethari would be all right. With tentative touches, he began feeling his way across Ethari’s body for injuries.

He found far more than he wanted to, and he was grateful he’d overpacked on medical supplies for his rescue mission. His very first move was to coax Ethari to eat a couple of dried balmberries to ease his pains.

“I’ll eat them if you’ll have some too,” Ethari bargained. So Runaan fed him berries and accepted his own from Ethari’s fingertips, kissing them softly.

The back of Ethari’s shirt was in shreds, and his back was little better. Aside from losing a horn tip and gathering a truly impressive collection of bruises and scrapes, the craftsman had also broken his foot in the rockfall. Brooking no argument, Runaan stripped off his extra layers and laid his armored vest out flat for Ethari to lie down on. “Your back’s a mess, Ethari. How do you have any skin left? Lie down on your stomach and hold still. I’m going to wrap your foot and then I’ll clean the wounds on your back. I know you like to collect pretty rocks, but embedding gravel in your back isn’t the way to do it.”

Ethari complied with a series of soft groans, and Runaan eased him into the most comfortable position they could find, with Ethari propping his chin on his hands as he lay flat, holding his broken foot above a bent knee. Runaan held the glowing crystal in his teeth as he sat beside him, flush against his arm. He cut his tunic into strips, Ethari shifted one hand to rest it atop Runaan's thigh, and they both listened to his dagger’s slices along with their own labored breathing.

The blue crystal found a new home atop a small pile of rocks near Ethari’s head. “You’ll look good in a horn tip.”

“D’you think so?” Ethari murmured.

“I know so. Very dashing indeed.” Runaan eased Ethari’s boot off with tender care and began wrapping strips of his tunic around Ethari’s foot, strapping it into a stable position.

From behind him, Ethari’s voice spiraled up in the dark. “You should probably have left me to Sol Regem. You could’ve walked away and been halfway home by now. Your people need you. No one needs me.”

Runaan’s hands were precise in the crystal’s cool glow as he tied off the tunic strips around Ethari’s ankle. “I would never leave you to Sol Regem, Ethari. Especially not after I’d just saved your pretty hide from a dark market and gotten you back into Xadia. You belong in the Silvergrove.” He dropped a light kiss on the side of Ethari’s bandages. “I’m not the only one who needs you there. But I hope I need you the most.” Runaan began cleaning Ethari's back with a bit of cloth soaked in water from his waterskin.

“And I hope you don’t need the bits of me that I left out there in the canyon,” Ethari said.

Runaan smiled as he and Ethari danced around the depth of their feelings. “You should’ve let me take some of the skidding,” he chastised, though his hands were infinitely gentle as he swabbed at the ruins of Ethari’s back and pried the odd bit of gravel from his skin.

Ethari didn’t even flinch. “You’d just had a _rock_ fall on your head, Runaan. And I weigh more than you. There’s no way.”

“I could’ve handled it.”

“You definitely couldn’t have.”

“Show-off.”

“Idiot.”

“Stubborn.”

“Fool.”

“Ethari.” Runaan’s hands stilled. His eyes stung with tears, and he told himself it was just from the dust. His bare fingers settled lightly on the side of Ethari’s shoulder, and he squeezed gently. “Seeing you hurt on my account is the deepest wound I carry.”

“These hurts were necessary to save the mooncrazy assassin I love," Ethari murmured, "He is not the boss of me, and I will do what I must to keep him alive. Now hurry up and finish so I can patch you up, too.”

Runaan’s head gave a particularly sharp and painful throb. “Not to worry, my light. I’m fine.”

“You aren't. I can tell from your breathing.”

Runaan ran the back of one finger along the top of Ethari’s ear. “One of us is used to being wounded. Trust me, I will be fine. And you really shouldn’t be moving right now.” _As long as you live, it doesn’t matter what happens to me._

Ethari let out a small whimper of surrender. “Fine. Then when you’re done, you can collapse over here where I can see you.”

Runaan’s heart swelled and sang, and a pair of tears fell against Ethari’s back. “Yes, my heart.” He finished cleaning as much blood and gravel from Ethari’s back as he could, and he lay his own green shirt, in far better condition than Ethari’s ragged crop top, over Ethari’s back to keep the wounds clean. Runaan spread what remained of his own tunic beside Ethari and lay down next to him with careful ease, clasping his hand gently, intertwining their fingers and kissing them. Ethari pulled their hands to his own lips and kissed Runaan’s skinned and bloodied knuckles.

“Your hands, Runaan… will you be able to…”

“Nothing too broken. Maybe a finger or two.”

Ethari’s breathing hitched, and a soft keen slipped into the dimness. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“Don’t you dare start with that.” Runaan’s tone was infinitely gentle, though, and he rolled onto his side to press his chest warmly against Ethari’s arm and smooth his hair. He dropped a kiss against Ethari’s dusty horn. “What is done cannot be undone, and we’re both alive together. I count this as an extreme success, considering. Ethari--we survived a _dragon_.”

“What happens now?” Ethari whispered, and Runaan heard the tremor in his voice.

“Now? We wait. Tiadrin and Lain will reach the canyon tonight. They’ll find me, and when the timing is right, they’ll dig us free.”

A short silence ensued as Ethari unraveled the meaning behind Runaan’s confidence. “You stole three of my lotuses and performed the bonding ritual at the pool, didn’t you?”

Runaan easily admitted his theft. “I did. Tiadrin and Lain will be able to find us as soon as they get here, thanks to that ritual. I do not apologize for stealing your lotuses, either, because rescuing the elf I love from a Katolis dark market counts as a dangerous mission.”

Ethari huffed a quiet laugh. “Apparently so, though the return to Xadia has been even more dangerous.”

"Not even I could've predicted that twist," Runaan said lightly.

But Ethari was silent and didn't banter back. His shoulders tensed under Runaan's hand.

Runaan knew Ethari had something to tell him. He'd already guessed what it was, though. And there would be plenty of time to confess later. He settled against Ethari’s side and propped one foot behind Ethari’s knee so he could comfortably elevate his broken foot by leaning his calf against Runaan’s boot. “Get some rest, my light. I’ll be here when you wake.”

Runaan gently and protectively draped himself against Ethari, and Ethari nuzzled close until they could feel each other’s reassuring breaths. Wrapped in shared pain and bonded by determined love, the elves drifted into a deep and sheltered sleep.

Outside their rockfall, the sun set. The Sun Archdragon Sol Regem lumbered up to the cliff top in order to catch the last rays from his primal source, and then he sat up alertly, listening in the endless, cooling darkness for two Moonshadow elves he knew would be sneaking past.


	6. Moonshadow Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethari's secret comes out.
> 
> Whiplash warning: this chapter goes from fluff to angst in a Moonshadow second. Hold onto yer butts.

Ethari’s hiss of pain woke Runaan instantly, and he found his beloved in his arms with his head resting against Runaan’s shoulder. In their sleep, the wounded elves had snuggled closer until their bare chests pressed together, with Ethari lying atop Runaan and nuzzled up against his neck. In his sleep, Runaan had bent one knee out to the side and tucked the top of his ankle behind Ethari’s knee so Ethari could keep his broken foot elevated. And, somehow, they’d slept in that position for what remained of the night, sharing warmth and feeling each other breathe softly.

He kissed Ethari’s forehead and smoothed his tousled and dusty hair from his face. “More balmberries?”

Ethari’s voice was low and rough with pain. “If you insist.”

Runaan pulled a few of the round green berries from his belt pouch. He pressed two of them against Ethari’s lips, and Ethari took them in and left a kiss against Runaan’s fingertips. Then he offered two to Ethari to give back to him, knowing that he’d insist on Runaan taking care of himself, too.

Ethari took the berries in his lips instead of his fingers, and he leaned in for a medicinal kiss. Runaan hummed against his lips in pleased surprise as he accepted the soft offering, and their kiss deepened and drew out. Runaan ran his fingers through Ethari’s hair and teased the most sensitive areas of his ears until Ethari began to squirm with delight. Ethari breathed a laughing moan into Runaan’s mouth and flexed his hips against Runaan’s, drawing an interested hum of pleasure from Runaan’s chest. But Runaan didn’t want to cause Ethari to wriggle so much that he aggravated his injuries, despite how pleasurable their cuddling was. With extreme reluctance, Runaan broke the kiss, soothing Ethari to calm again by trailing his fingers along the tops of Ethari’s arms.

“I’m glad you slept,” he said. “You needed it.” On the warm stone overhead, the clear light of day sprinkled droplets of sunny radiance. Runaan felt his heart sink. “It looks like Tiadrin and Lain couldn’t reach us before Sol Regem woke, though.”

“Are we here for another day?” Ethari murmured against Runaan’s skin.

“It seems so.”

Ethari’s hands caressed Runaan’s bare, muscular shoulders, and he burrowed his face more closely against his neck. “Shame.”

Runaan grinned, and his chest shook with a silent laugh, which he immediately regretted, as it shook several active pains awake again. His groan was less silent, and Ethari lifted up onto his elbows, hovering over him.

He studied Runaan with soft-eyed concern. “I don’t know how we ended up in this position in the night.”

Runaan’s gaze was direct. “Yes, you do.”

“I didn’t mean to put all my weight on you, Runaan.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Am I hurting you?” Ethari’s voice was hesitant.

Runaan managed a petulant pout. “You’re making me cold. Lie back down against me.”

Ethari complied with a relieved smile. They’d snuggled close in the night, but neither of them had thought to pull Runaan’s tunic over themselves a blanket. Together, they managed it, but between Runaan’s damaged hands and Ethari’s wounded back, it took some doing. Finally, Runaan settled the thick cloth gently over his own shirt, which he’d draped atop Ethari’s wounds.

“How’s that?”

“Perfect. You take such good care of me, Runaan.”

Runaan snugged Ethari tight with his bent leg. “And I always will, to the very best of my ability.”

Ethari hummed in amusement against Runaan’s neck. “Writing our vows already?”

Runaan paused and glanced around the tiny space where they lay trapped and injured. He trusted his bodyguards with his life, and had for many years. They would find him. They would. He and Ethari wouldn’t be trapped for long, they wouldn’t have to dig their way free and risk burying themselves, and they definitely wouldn’t get caught by Sol Regem as they tried to sneak out the far end of the canyon during the night.

_I made use of Ethari’s lotuses for exactly this purpose._ _Still_ … “It couldn’t hurt. We haven’t discussed a date, and I do have all this free time.”

“A winter wedding would be lovely,” Ethari murmured. His hands ghosted across Runaan’s exposed skin with soft caresses. “You in snowy white brocade with a high collar and a thick fur cape with silver accents? Maybe some nice silk gloves? Do princes get married with crowns on? _Hnnnn_. I’m so ready to marry you, Runaan.”

Runaan coughed a laugh, but he immediately pressed his hands apologetically atop Ethari’s shoulders in apology for the disturbance. “You just want to take all those things off of me.”

“Not _just_ that,” Ethari replied. He pressed a heartfelt kiss against Runaan’s collarbone.

“Well, you’ll have to wear the same as I do,” Runaan reminded him. “When you marry a prince, you become a prince.” He drew one finger teasingly down the length of Ethari’s ear.

Ethari went stiff with shock. “I… hadn’t quite… uhhm…”

Runaan tilted his head to meet Ethari’s sunset eyes. A smile played across his lips. “It’s so refreshing to hear that you weren’t after me for my title. Getting away from that kind of pressure was one of the many reasons I took the assassin posting in the Silvergrove.”

Ethari’s head shot up, and he immediately winced and lay it back against Runaan’s shoulder. “Ow. That hurt. But… Runaan, you really had people throwing themselves at you for your royal connections?”

Runaan sighed, remembering how he’d hated dodging the constant innuendo and passive-aggressive favormongering. “Absolutely. The influential people in my father’s social circles were constantly pushing their daughters into my arms at dances. And when they all realized that I’d much prefer to dance with their sons, my dance card shifted to match.”

Ethari stiffened, defensive on Runaan’s behalf. “That seems…”

Runaan hummed in agreement. “It does. No one asked any of us what we actually wanted. We were all just trying to be dutiful sons and daughters. Illusion covers a multitude of sins. But I’ve seen more sins than most, and over time, even the illusion wears thin.”

“I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard to live with.”

Runaan smiled and kissed Ethari’s hair. “No more than any other aspect of being a Moonshadow prince. It’s generally a endless dance of looking strikingly honorable, pretending that you know things before anyone tells them to you, and carrying the purity of the Moonshadows as if it weighed no more than Moonlight.” When Ethari didn’t immediately reply, Runaan smoothed his hair comfortingly. “Still want to marry me? Maybe we can elope and run away to the northern coast and live on a tropical island alone together.”

Runaan’s light comment smacked into a brick wall and fluttered into nothingness as Ethari stiffened and buried his face into Runaan’s shoulder with a soft whimper.

“My light?” Runaan inquired softly. His fingertips came to rest ever so lightly against Ethari’s shoulders. To his dismay, Ethari shook his head and pressed even more closely, sliding his fingers beneath Runaan’s neck as his breathing hitched. Runaan’s stomach twisted, even as he lay beneath Ethari’s comforting weight. “I’ve said something to upset you. Please forgive me—”

“No…” Ethari’s voice was muffled.

Runaan’s chest flooded with cold. “Ethari…”

Ethari wrenched himself away from Runaan, backing up until he knelt between Runaan’s knees. Runaan immediately tried to follow, but Ethari’s hand pressed against his chest, and Runaan settled back onto his elbows, eyes clinging to Ethari, heart racing. His silent question hung in the air between them.

_What have I done? Please don’t turn away from me._

“I’m not pure anymore, Runaan.” Ethari settled clumsily with his broken foot propped out to the side. “That’s why Sol Regem refused to let me back into Xadia. And… he was right not to. I’m not a good match for you anymore. You’re a prince of the Moonshadow elves. You deserve a partner who can carry your honor for you, and who has honor that you can carry. I shouldn’t have said yes to you.”

Runaan flexed upright, but he kept his hands on the ground instead of reaching out as he longed to, giving his beloved much-needed space. “I know what they did to you, Ethari.”

“Y-you don’t, Runaan.”

Runaan’s voice dropped low into certainty. “I do. There is only one thing that would prevent Sol Regem from granting safe passage to a Moonshadow elf in the presence of his prince.” Runaan finally raised a bruised and bloodied hand toward Ethari. “They cast dark magic on you, didn’t they?”

Ethari twitched in on himself, as if the truth had escaped before he was ready, as if he feared it had flown out of his chest and ripped a hole straight through him with the terrible speed of its flight. A whimper followed, and Ethari buried his face in his hands.

Runaan reached across the distance between them in an instant. His ruined hands cupped Ethari’s cheeks, and he pressed his legs around Ethari, cradling him close. Then he pressed his own cheek to Ethari’s hair and held him, mindful of the broad scrapes across his back. In Ethari’s ear, he murmured, “You are not responsible for what others have done to you, my heart. That’s not how this works. I will make them pay for touching you. This I swear to you on every drop of blood in my body.”

But Ethari only cringed more tightly. “Runaan, no, I forbid you to swear such things. You mustn’t…” He keened softly into his hands and tried to pull away.

Though it went against all of Runaan’s protective instincts, he let go and held his hands up in harmlessness. “Ethari, you’re safe here, I promise. But if… if you don’t want me to touch you, I won’t.”

Ethari raised tear-filled eyes to meet Runaan’s. “I want nothing more in the _world_ , sweet prince. _Nothing_ more, I swear it on my very breath. But I can’t let you touch me anymore. I can’t let you close. I need you to be free, and you need to find someone else. You… you c-can’t have me now.” Ethari’s sunset eyes were wild with grief and determination, and his breathing came unevenly and far too fast. “You can’t have me now,” he repeated, a mantra to hold him to his new course.

Runaan’s chest filled with icy blades. “What are you saying?” His hands lifted toward Ethari, hesitated, and dropped to his lap, useless and broken. “Ethari, what are you saying?”

Ethari’s voice broke. “I’m not pure, Runaan. There is no Moon in me anymore. Only Shadow. Yes, the dark market smugglers had a mage with them. She cast dark magic at me—I don’t even know all the things she did to me. Things got blurry as the days passed. But… _nnnghh_ , Runaan, it’s so much _worse_ than that. I’m not an innocent victim. I made a choice. I made a _choice_!”

Runaan’s hands had gone numb, as if a blast of truth had already gone off in the future and was blowing back through time, shivering him apart. His turquoise eyes clung to Ethari’s warm ones. “Ethari…”

Ethari had kept this secret from him for a reason. He hadn’t kept anything secret from Runaan in months. Not his fears, not his hopes, not even his flaws. He hadn’t spoken of it until Runaan had mentioned his princely duties, either. What could he be hiding that was worse than being tainted by a dark mage?

_Please don’t break my heart._

_Please don’t break, my heart._

Runaan clutched his injured hands together and felt the march of history, the pressure of tradition, the demands of his rank, driving his soul inexorably toward a future he feared would force him into an impossible choice: Ethari, or his people. The world spread wide with possibility, moonlit choices in every direction, a map of tactical choices and soft options beneath his feet. But he couldn’t decide which way to step until he knew what lurked behind Ethari’s illusion.

Runaan sat before Ethari, separate, longing, aching for his love with eyes wide and damp. His breath was a whisper. “My heart, what have you _done_?”

Ethari wouldn’t meet his eyes as he finally spoke. Twin tears tracked through the dust on his cheeks. “I wasn’t just a _target_ for dark magic, Runaan.” Ethari’s body trembled with the icy truth. “ _I cast it_.”


	7. Moonshadow Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethari confesses, and everything Runaan thought he knew and trusted falls apart.

Runaan tried to stifle his instinctive reaction, but a hard gasp still rushed past his lips. His eyes raked Ethari’s hunched form, as if the answers to this inexplicable betrayal might be writ across his skin like glowing runes. As if a simple truth could explain away this sudden horror.

But no.

Ethari’s words hung in the air like a putrid fume, like a curse. Runaan wanted nothing more than to un-hear them. Perhaps he had misunderstood. “Ethari, surely you didn’t…”

Ethari let out a broken sob as he shook his head against the hands that covered his eyes.

He _did_. He _had_. Runaan could feel the truth shivering out from him like a dim halo of dust after an avalanche.

_Why? Why would you do this? And then keep it from me? Why would you keep this from your beloved? From your… prince?_

Runaan’s expression soured, and the ache in his chest twisted into something darker. When he spoke again, his voice was rougher. “Ethari. How _could_ you?”

“I…” Ethari began.

But Runaan was already backing up. He got to his feet with effort, leaning on the stone wall for support, and then backed up another two steps until he was as far across the small caved-in cavern as he could get from Ethari. The pinpricks of morning light danced around the top of the cliff wall, while the blue glow from Runaan’s crystal lit the floor. Runaan suddenly didn’t want to share that blue light with Ethari anymore. With who he had become. With who he had secretly been for the past two days. He lifted his chin, and his eyes glittered like gemstones. “I formally rescind my offer of marriage. You were right. I need to find someone else. A prince of the Moonshadow elves cannot be _seen_ with a traitor, let alone wed to one.”

Ethari only nodded silently against his hands, as if the ice in Runaan’s voice wasn’t cutting him to the bone.

Somehow, his mute acceptance of Runaan’s judgment only made Runaan angrier. His hands balled into fists, and he felt some part of the shadow he wore during assassin missions come over him. “You _knew_ , Ethari. You knew this whole time, ever since I rescued you. And you said nothing! I can only assume that the dark magic in you has distorted your judgment and twisted your heart.”

Disgusted, Runaan swiped the back of his hand against his lips and continued. “I _bled_ for you. I was willing to _die_ with you. But you were deceiving me all along.” Ethari still remained silent. Runaan’s lip curled. “Were you hoping to seduce me completely, to taint me with your darkness as well? What a foul scheme. I can’t believe I thought you _weren’t_ after my title. That’s _all_ you were after, once you turned. Marry the prince, and dark magic poisons everyone in the Moonshadow Forest! Every act I take, every decision I make... You would bring the ruination of my people without a single arrow loosed! After all, what need is there for war when the enemy’s _sleeping in your bed_!” Runaan picked up a broken rock fragment and hurled it past Ethari’s head.

Ethari flinched as it shattered against the tumbled spill of stones that trapped them against the cliff face. He held one trembling hand toward Runaan, palm out. “Runaan, please…”

“ _No_. You don’t get to speak. You held your silence before, so you will hold it now!” Runaan surged forward, looming over Ethari, eyes blazing. His head throbbed with yellow-green spikes of pain, further provoking his betrayed anger. “I am a prince, Ethari. I have so much responsibility riding on me, on my every decision. I dedicated so much time to you, to studying your actions and reactions, to judge whether you’d be capable of handling the responsibilities that would fall on you if you married me. I thought…” He dismissed the heat of his rage by easing his fists open and flicking his fingers as if shaking water drops free. “I thought I knew who you were. But I was wrong. I’m just glad I found out the truth before it was too late.”

“I’m sorry…” Ethari’s whisper was barely audible.

“You’re _sorry_.” Runaan echoed him coldly, with eyes of ice. “ _Sorry_. For burning a living creature as fuel? For valuing your purpose above another’s existence? For tainting your soul in the heartless pursuit of power? Which of these are you _sorry_ for, Ethari?” He dropped to one knee and seized one of Ethari’s horns, tilting his neck sharply. With bloodied knuckles, his other hand cupped Ethari’s chin, ready to twist and snap his neck, ending his treacherous threat for good. But his hand trembled. He hesitated, feeling Ethari’s warm skin against his palm again.

Tears leaked from Ethari’s eyes. Very slowly, without opening them, he eased one hand up to cup the back of Runaan’s as it held his chin. “If you ever loved me, Runaan… be quick.”

He pressed Runaan’s hand in the direction of his own death. Willing to die, still, _for_ Runaan, if not _with_ him. Willing to die at Runaan’s hand. Willing to die because it was _Runaan’s_ hand that would take him.

_My heart… You’re still mine… How can I kill my own heart?_

Runaan’s fury broke. Split open with a great magmatic crack, spilling hot tears across his cheeks. A soft, desperate gasp accompanied them, and he breathed in Ethari’s scent. It was unchanged, unstained by the dark magic he had wielded. How could he still look and smell the same after what he had done? How could Runaan still need him this much, knowing how tainted he’d made himself? His hands shook as never before, and he lifted them from his death grip on Ethari, settling them tremblingly around Ethari’s cheeks.

Instead of killing Ethari, he kissed him ever so softly, tasting Ethari’s tears. “Please,” he whispered, “why have you done this? This unspeakable thing, this terrible choice that must forever separate us? _Why_ , Ethari?” Runaan’s voice broke on his beloved’s name, and he rested his forehead against Ethari’s in utter grief. “ _I loved you_. I loved you with all that I am.”

Ethari had surrendered to his fate, letting his face rest compliantly in Runaan’s hands, still awaiting that final twist of death, so it took him a long moment to realize Runaan actually expected a reply. When he did speak, his voice remained a whisper, as if the fullness of it were now a crime, not to be allowed in the prince’s presence. “They were only little ones…”

Runaan jerked back, and his eyes widened. “ _Children_? Moon and shadow, Ethari. What did you do to them?”

A shadow of Ethari’s spirit returned, and he clasped Runaan’s wrists. “I _saved_ them. She said it was them or me.”

Runaan paused, mouth open to speak further accusations, and felt them die on his tongue. “…What?”

“I cast a spell as my part of the bargain, and the dark mage who had me held to her part and set them free. That’s why I did it, Runaan. That’s why.”

Instinctively, Runaan pressed a hand against Ethari’s chest, feeling the steady beating of his heart. No lie thrummed within its slow and even beats. Runaan’s eyes widened.

_I want to save you. Can I? How do I save you?_

While his mind scrambled through long-forgotten rituals and myths, his eyes fell to Ethari’s lips. “Tell me everything. I will listen.” Ethari gasped softly and began to speak, but Runaan stopped him. “Wait. Come sit over here. You’ll be more comfortable.”

Runaan settled Ethari against the cliff wall, padded against all their discarded and damaged shirts to protect his healing back, and supported his broken foot across his own lap as they faced each other. He rested his hand against Ethari’s heavily muscled chest again, and to his surprise, Ethari clasped it tightly in place with one of his own. He knew Runaan was testing him for truth, and he welcomed it. Their eyes met, and Runaan took a deep breath before nodding for Ethari to begin.

Ethari dropped his eyes to his broken foot, resting comfortably across Runaan’s folded legs. “The dark mage… she was there when I arrived. And she was very excited to see me. She spent the first two days…” Ethari winced and looked aside.

“What?” Runaan prompted gently.

“I’m not sure of the count,” Ethari breathed, “but she has at least six vials with Moon runes on them that contain some part of my arcanum.”

Runaan’s fingers twitched in horror against Ethari’s chest. Without thinking, he pressed his hand more firmly over Ethari’s heart in support and sympathy. His voice was faint with shock. “You were so weak when I found you because she had drained you of your magic.”

Ethari nodded slowly.

Runaan felt a sharp, glittering thread of guilt lance through him. He hadn’t understood. He’d reacted out of anger and disgust when Ethari had been attacked and traumatized. Nothing was as he’d assumed. “Please, go on. I’m listening.”

Ethari’s chest shuddered with emotion beneath Runaan’s hand, and his face crumpled. He struggled to breathe without breaking down for a while, and Runaan rested his other hand comfortingly on Ethari’s shoulder.

“I’m listening, Ethari. I’m here.”

Ethari managed a deep, calming breath and spoke again, though he kept his eyes downcast. “She hurt me, taking what she wanted. She thought only of her own wants, her own power. But I knew you were coming. I knew I could wait for you to find me. And then, the day before you found me—just hours before—she brought them in. A brother and a sister. Two little humans who’d—”

“ _Humans_?” Runaan echoed in surprise.

Ethari froze, afraid he’d angered Runaan again. He kept his eyes down, awaiting Runaan’s full reaction.

Runaan hated that he had to see Ethari brace for his anger, and he softened, still stricken with guilt. “Human children? Were they prisoners, too?”

Ethari shook his head. “Hungry scavengers in the border town. They were hoping to find something to eat in the warehouse. She caught them and decided to see how hard a Moonshadow I was.”

Ethari’s steady heartbeat pulsed against Runaan’s palm. “I… I’ve never known you to be hard, Ethari,” Runaan murmured. “What happened next?”

“The dark mage bargained my life against theirs, but I told her I’d pay that price without question. And that wasn’t what she wanted. So she changed the deal: if I’d darken my soul with her magic, she’d let the little ones live. An experiment, she called it.”

Runaan’s spine went cold. “Ethari…”

“I couldn’t let them die, Runaan. They were _children_.”

But Runaan’s horror wasn’t due to Ethari’s choice. “That is no bargain, Ethari. She was cruel, threatening you with two impossible choices. You…” Runaan hesitated, working his way through Ethari’s decision for himself. He needed to understand, fully and deeply, what Ethari had experienced, if he was going to make the right choice for their future. If they could ever have one. “You did what you needed to do. Your choice wasn’t selfish or greedy. You weren’t thinking of _me_ at all. Your decision was made to save those children, not to bring dark magic to the Moonshadow elves through marrying me.”

“No,” Ethari blurted. “Never that. You hadn’t even asked me to marry you yet. I… didn’t know if you ever would.”

Under Runaan’s hand, Ethari’s heart beat true. A new kind of horror began to grow in Runaan’s heart. One that flinched from his _own_ actions, not from Ethari’s.

Ethari continued, “And then, when you did, I was so happy—and so ashamed—I tried to tell you… I’m sorry, Runaan. I should have insisted that you hear me out. Once I fully understood what my presence in your life would do to your standing… that’s when I backed away from you. I know what I did. And I know you can never be with someone who’s done something so abominable.”

Runaan’s hand was trembling again. His eyes locked onto his bloodied and bruised fingers, so lurid and damaged against Ethari’s unmarked chest. His voice was a strangled whisper. “I almost killed you. And you almost let me.”

Ethari remained silent, fully aware of his own choices.

At last, Runaan raised his eyes to Ethari’s, horrified by his own judgmental actions. “Ethari, I…”

“Runaan, I forgave you the moment you took my horn.”

Runaan’s eyes leaped to the horn he’d grabbed. It was Ethari’s broken horn. The horn that had its tip ground off as they tumbled and slid away from Sol Regem’s wrath. The horn that Ethari had sacrificed to keep Runaan safe.

And Runaan had nearly used it to kill him.

He lifted his hands from Ethari’s skin and stared at them, shaking, feeling sharp icy tendrils weave their way around his spine and thread around his arms. Ethari might have tainted his soul with dark magic, but what was this darkness in Runaan, this black and twisted judgment that led him to threaten death upon the one elf he loved most in the world?

_I am too dark._

_I am too dark._

_Moon help me. I am too dark._

“Is it all right if I…?” Ethari murmured as he slipped his hands around Runaan’s, holding them gently, soothing their trembles with his warmth.

“If you… what?” Runaan’s words were breathless, lost.

“I didn’t know if you still would allow me to… to touch you,” Ethari finished quietly.

A soft cry burst from Runaan’s lips, and he dropped his head, hiding his anguished expression from Ethari. Despite the pain it caused him, he squeezed Ethari’s hands with his damaged ones, clinging, desperate for the touch of his beloved, whom he’d been so unspeakably cruel to. “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry…” Hot tears dripped from his eyes, landing against Ethari’s bound and broken foot.

“Runaan, my shade…” Ethari hesitated after murmuring the term of endearment, and its implications cut twin wounds across Runaan’s heart.

Runaan gasped and sobbed, feeling every doubt he’d ever had turn inward and stab him to his core. “I don’t deserve you. _You_ are not the abomination to our people. _I_ am. I am nothing but shade and shadow. There is no light in me, Ethari. Nothing worth saving.”

“Yes, yes there _is_ ,” Ethari insisted. He brought Runaan’s damaged hands to his lips and gently kissed them. “Would a dark-hearted prince weep like this over hurting someone he believed deserved death? Would he listen to a word I said, would he try to understand the situation from my side? Would he prop my broken foot in his lap purely for my comfort while I explained the worst act of my life to him?”

Runaan hiccupped and blinked tearily at Ethari.

Ethari’s lip trembled, but he continued. “Would he patch me up when I was hurt saving him? Would he risk his own life multiple times to distract an angry dragon, just to buy me a chance at escape? Would he drag his two best friends into danger across the Moonstone Path to rescue my foolish arse?” He smiled softly at Runaan, radiating love and affection so strongly that Runaan swore he could feel its warmth upon his skin. “Would such a dark-hearted prince still be able to love me, even after what I did?”

“H-He would,” Runaan stammered. “He would. Desperately so.”

Ethari’s breath caught. His hands went still. “And might he… perhaps, in an unguarded moment… still _wish_ he could marry such a foolish craftsman, even if they could never properly be together again?”

Runaan’s composure broke again, and he surged forward, pulling Ethari into a tight embrace. “Yes,” he murmured brokenly against Ethari’s ear. “Yes, by all the light of the Moon, Ethari. _Yes_.”

Ethari melted into Runaan’s embrace with a breath of ecstasy, and he held his beloved close and smoothed his hair. They clung to each other, and they clung some more. Soft touches and hot tears and gentle murmurs passed between them, and neither was sure that any words at all were spoken. Their last reunion was also their first goodbye, for they’d have to part forever because of Ethari’s choice. But just knowing that their love glowed as brightly as it ever had gave them strength and comfort in each other’s arms.

Finally, Ethari took a deep breath and pulled back. He took Runaan’s tearful face in his hands and gently swiped away his tears, even as he smiled through his own. “Now then, let’s clean you up. A prince should be presentable when he’s rescued by his loyal bodyguards, right?”

Runaan could only stare in soft love and wonder at this beautiful craftsman who had captured his heart. _How do I walk away from you, Ethari? How? How do I go on living when I can’t hold your hand and walk by your side? You stained your soul selflessly. You shouldn’t be punished for having such a soft heart. Not when that’s what I love most about you. I… I would take this stain from you, if I could. You deserve a second chance—_

From among the dark and dusty corridors of Runaan’s upbringing at the palatial campus, a long-forgotten ritual suddenly sprang to mind. A ritual so secret it was bound to his lineage as strongly as any curse. A ritual so rare he’d never even seen it performed. A ritual he’d memorized for its sheer romantic daring.

Runaan’s soft gasp drew a concerned murmur from Ethari’s lips. “Runaan, what is it?”

For the first time since Ethari had shared the dark truth of what he had done, Runaan smiled. His shoulders slumped with relief, and he smoothed a thumb across Ethari’s cheekbone before cupping his face with loving gentleness.

“Ethari. I can save your soul. Please. I want nothing more in all the world. Will you let me try?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to @joelsweet on tumblr for a timely beta!


	8. Moonshadow Binding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runaan tries to convince Ethari to undergo a forbidden ritual with him. Softness and angst ensue.

Ethari blinked. His hands flinched and settled again against Runaan’s cheeks, cupping them protectively. “What?”

“The dark magic,” Runaan explained. “I know how to erase its taint from your spirit.”

“Runaan…” Ethari shook his head in faint exasperation. “That’s not a thing.”

“Doubting the word of your prince?” Runaan asked lightly. He brushed his hands against Ethari’s and traced his fingers up the dark skin of his arms until they came to rest on those powerful shoulders. “There is an ancient ritual I know of. It is sealed to the High Grove and has been guarded by my family for generations. I’ve never even seen it performed.”

“H-How did you learn of it, then?” Ethari breathed.

A faint smile ghosted across Runaan’s lips. “I was a curious child. I found it in a scroll in one of my father’s deepest understump archives. It seemed… romantic. So I memorized it.”

“You memorized an ancient Moonshadow ritual because it seemed _romantic_?” Ethari’s voice was faint with disbelief.

Runaan flushed lightly in the light of the blue crystal. “What little boy doesn’t dream of saving his deepest love with the one ritual that can undo even the darkest of enchantments?”

“Undo…?” Ethari dropped his hands to Runaan’s shoulders and clung there. “Runaan, you’re sure, you’re absolutely _certain_ , that this ritual can do what you claim? That it can pull the stink of dark magic off of me? Lift this stain on my soul?”

Runaan soothed his hands across Ethari’s shoulders and steadied his face. His eyes glowed with love and warmth, and he felt his smile rise from the depths of his soul. _What wouldn’t I do for you, my light?_ “I do. I can. Will you let me?”

Ethari’s dark brows drew together. “But… why is it such a secret? What does the ritual actually do? Will it hurt you? There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Runaan’s smile faded. His phrasing here needed to be perfect, or Ethari wouldn’t agree. “If the ritual is performed properly and to its expected end,” he said reassuringly, “no harm will come to either of us, and you’ll be free of the dark magic that’s tainted you. But…” He looked down and sighed.

“No, tell me the rest.” Ethari raised Runaan’s chin with a firm hand. “What’s the catch?”

Runaan took a deep breath and felt the dusty air fill his chest. He felt weightless here in this moment, so certain and yet untested. He could change his mind. He could turn aside from this path.

_But I want this. I want this so much that I’ll risk my own soul to save his._ “The ritual involves soul-binding.”

“ _Soul-binding_?” Ethari’s eyes widened, and his fingers spasmed around Runaan’s chin, tugging him closer. “Runaan. That’s forbidden magic.”

Runaan shook his head gently within Ethari’s grip. “Not for the High Grove. Those who protect and defend the Moonshadow Forest may be called to a higher level of service, and that service may come at an impossible cost. When such selfless acts are given freely, there is a ritual that can cleanse them.”

“By binding their soul to another’s.” Ethari’s flat tone radiated with disbelief.

“ _Yes_. Yes, my heart. One sacrifice demands another. Therein lies the balance that drives the ritual. When someone has stained his soul in order to do what must be done, then another may bind his clean soul to the darkened one in order to purge the stain.”

Ethari’s bent brows spoke of confusion and disbelief.

Runaan caressed Ethari’s shoulders with encouraging fingers. “Through holding together, through finding balance, the two will remain whole while the touch of dark magic is lost.” He shut his teeth with a snap, afraid he’d let slip something that truly was forbidden—the secret that lay hidden within the ritual.

Ethari’s eyes clung to Runaan’s, seeking understanding. “Is it like your assassin binding ritual, then? That kind of binding?”

“Its bond is tighter even than that, Ethari. With binding ribbons, there is only one way to release. But with this ritual, there _is_ no release.”

Ethari’s dark brows climbed, and he sighed through a pained expression. “Once they’re bound, souls can never be unbound? No matter what? Runaan… I can’t ask that of you. That’s… it’s…”

“You’re not asking, Ethari. I’m offering.” Runaan’s hands found Ethari’s and squeezed them gently in Runaan’s lap, and his gaze dropped again. “Begging, really,” he whispered.

But Ethari was still struggling. “I… that’s so much _more_ than marriage, Runaan. I can’t let you bind your soul to mine like that.”

“Isn’t that my choice?” Runaan murmured. “My soul, to do with as I choose?”

“I…” Ethari’s chest heaved with emotion. Then he pleaded, “But what if it goes wrong?”

Runaan closed his eyes, smiled, and shook his head lightly. “Don’t worry, Ethari. Your soul will be safe in my hands. I promise.”

“I’m not worried about _me_ , Runaan,” Ethari pressed. His fingers danced from Runaan’s shoulders to his hands, to his cheeks, as if Runaan had already suffered some damage from this ritual and Ethari was checking him over. “If this ritual involves some kind of sacrifice on your part, I’m not doing it. I won’t.”

Runaan surged forward, and his lips found Ethari’s. Eager and needy, he gasped for air and sighed into the kiss again. Ethari’s soft moan tasted like honey on his tongue. Careful not to press Ethari against the shirts that cushioned his damaged back, Runaan let his fingers flutter across his beloved’s skin—his shoulders, his chest, his neck—before cupping his jaw and pulling him harder into the kiss. He could feel Ethari’s breath heaving, panting as quickly as his own. He let his lips slow, let the force of his kiss soften, until he breathed a fragile smile against that beautiful mouth and rested his forehead against Ethari’s. “Please… I need you. If you don’t let me try, then we are both lost. _Please_.” His voice cracked, and hot tears pricked his eyes.

“…Both? Runaan…”

Runaan’s hands rested against the warm skin of Ethari’s neck. “Ethari, please forgive me my reckless anger. I was thinking with my crown instead of my heart. I know now that I have no interest whatsoever in living without you for even a moment, and I was an utter fool to doubt your heart. I _am_ a fool, but a fool who desperately needs you. If you would just let me try… I would do anything, _everything_ , to save you. Anything, anything…” His voice trailed off into taut whispers on the edge of tears. “Please, Ethari… Please forgive me.”

“Runaan.” Ethari pulled the shuddering prince hard against him and held him tightly. “I told you, I already have. Please, my heart, I can’t bear the thought of you suffering so much without me.” His breath hitched, and a soft sob escaped into Runaan’s hair. “If it will save _you_ …” Ethari’s arms tightened around Runaan’s shoulders, and his strong fingers laced through Runaan’s dusty hair. His hands found Runaan’s face, and he steadied the prince so he could meet his eyes. “If it will save _you_ , Runaan, then I will consent to the ritual with you. For _your_ sake, my heart, not for my own.”

Runaan smiled through his tears and gasped with relief. “Thank you.” He leaned in once more and pressed his forehead against Ethari’s, closing his eyes, basking in Ethari’s radiant love. A fragile sort of peace stole over him then, as he accepted his fate. Whether Ethari completed the secret part of the ritual or not, he would be free of the taint of dark magic. And Runaan truly would give anything for such a gift.

_Have I made a good match? Have I invited a truly worthy elf into my heart? My father hasn’t thought so. But even he couldn’t deny the result of this ritual. And if my father was right about Ethari all along… then at least I’ll be spared his judgment._

_But my father is wrong about Ethari. My heart insists on it._

He opened his eyes and smiled at his beloved sunset-eyed craftsman. “Let’s begin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to @joelsweet for betaing for me


	9. Moonshadow Ritual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What would Runaan do to save Ethari's soul from the taint of dark magic?
> 
> The better question is, what wouldn't he do?

Runaan pulled his dagger from its scuffed sheath, rested its naked blade across both palms, and stared down at it. In the space of one morning, he’d gone from hurt but deliriously happy, to feeling betrayed and furious enough to kill, to begging his beloved to perform a nearly forgotten cleansing ritual with him. _So. Big day then._

He could feel Ethari’s eyes on him, wary and intent. Slowly, smoothly, he offered the dagger up on his palms, with its handle toward Ethari’s right hand. “Take it.”

Ethari’s dark hand collected the dagger by its handle, but with deliberate hesitation. His eyes veiled with concern. “Please don’t tell me I’m cutting you.”

Runaan’s smile lit in his eyes, and relief surged through his chest once more. Ethari had agreed to the ritual, and though he was worried, he was holding to his word. “Not me. Just my hair.”

“What? No, no, moon and shadow—”

Runaan’s grip fell around Ethari’s wrist and startled him out of his incipient protest. With his other hand, the assassin reached behind his head. He pulled his hair cuff off and worked his fingers through the weave of his braid, freeing it into loose, dusty waves. Then he leaned forward, letting his long locks cascade over the front of his shoulder. They pooled cool and white atop Ethari’s foot, which still lay propped across Runaan’s lap. With precise fingers, Runaan selected a lock of hair from the nape of his neck and held it out.

His eyes rested on Ethari’s. “You were close when you asked about binding ribbons. This will be our binding ribbon.”

Ethari’s gaze flickered between Runaan’s proffered hair and his intent expression. His mouth fell open silently and then closed. He licked his lips and tried again. “Then let’s do it properly. I don’t want to risk losing any strands if they’re so important to the ritual.”

The craftsman reached down beside him and sliced free a small strip of Runaan’s tunic as it lay behind him. He tied it around the top of Runaan’s lock of hair, and with swifter fingers than Runaan expected, Ethari set a tight, even braid into it, all the way to the end. He tied it off with another strip of cloth and held it up for Runaan’s approval. “Will this work?”

Runaan cupped Ethari’s hands and studied his creation. “You put swirlies in my hair?”

Ethari whuffed a soft chuckle. “I suppose I did.”

“Then it’s perfect. Cut it free.”

Ethari did so with a precise slice. He looked at the shorn braid sadly. “It’s because your family all wear their hair so long, isn’t it? The hair symbolizes your right to perform the ritual. That’s why you have to cut a lock off and include it.”

Runaan’s eyes lingered on Ethari’s mouth. He was so beautiful when he was clever. “Yes.” He raised his eyebrows invitingly and pressed his left index finger to Ethari’s lips, requesting silence for the rest of the ritual, and Ethari nodded against him. Runaan took Ethari’s right hand in his own, clasping his wrist. Ethari mirrored his hold, and together they wrapped Runaan’s long slender braid around their hands and up their forearms.

With his free hand, Runaan softly captured Ethari’s chin. Without breaking eye contact, he drew him smilingly forward until their noses brushed. “ _Sumo Tenebris Tuum_.”

The braid began to glow and burn cold, giving off misty moonlight that uplit their faces, drawn so closely together.

The kiss that followed nearly set Runaan on fire. Ethari’s mouth was warm and sweet, his soft hum music to Runaan’s ears. But with that beautiful softness came the poisonous fire of the dark magic that tainted him. Runaan could taste it, acidic and slick and burning, a skin of putrid oil across the deep waters of Ethari’s soul. It climbed down Runaan’s throat, invaded his guts, constricted his chest, and tendriled its way into his heart.

_I can’t stop, can’t stop kissing him. It’s not done yet._

Runaan leaned in. His braid-bound hand clasped Ethari’s wrist tightly, and he felt Ethari’s grip respond and match.. Runaan’s free hand slipped to the back of Ethari’s neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss. He inhaled, pulling with every fiber of his being, drawing in Ethari’s musky scent and the deadly taint that soured it, determined to claim every last wisp of them both. If this moment was the last one he had with Ethari, then he would not let it end until Ethari was safe and whole again.

 _It doesn’t matter._ The thought settled in his chest, beneath all the swirling pain and darkness. Beneath the stuttering thud of his own struggling heart. Beneath the black chill that slicked beneath his skin. _It doesn’t matter if the ritual ends here. Ethari will be free._

A ringing chime vibrated in his ears and shivered along his horns as if they were a tuning fork. Startled, Runaan broke the kiss. But Ethari hadn’t heard it.

Ethari panted through a questioning smile, his cheeks dark and flushed, eyes bright. “Was that kiss part of the ritual?” he murmured. “Or are you just happy to see me?”

The chime rippled across Runaan’s skin and shifted from sound to light. A rushing sensation swept him away, heat and breath and thought all caught up together, swirling up and out of his chest, pooling in the back of his throat.

This was it. Runaan could feel his heart stop. The sudden drop in consciousness began at the top of his head and fell like a curtain. He had moments left.

His lips trembled into a smile, and he breathed, “Ethari, you are my _heart_.”

The blackness closed in, and Runaan felt his balance falter. He toppled back bonelessly onto the stone, and his horns clattered hard. His hand pulled free from Ethari’s, and the glowing braid spiraled after him, still clinging to his wrist, pulsing with moonlight.

“Runaan!” Ethari lunged after him despite his broken foot, surging from his sitting position until he knelt hoveringly over Runaan. His hands fluttered across the limp assassin, trailing the glowing braid across Runaan’s lilac skin as he moved. Runaan’s body was already cooling. “No, no, what is this? What have you _done_ , Runaan? This is not what I wanted!” Ethari’s voice cracked and bled despair. “Runaan!” he cried again, cupping his beloved’s still face.

Runaan’s eyes were still open, but they’d gone black. Not the black of his shadow form, but a full inky slick of darkness. And from his mouth rose a tiny, smoky tendril of shadow. It moved as if on a breeze, as if Runaan still breathed even though he lay still as death.

Ethari’s chest cramped and throbbed as he knelt over the body of his beloved and beheld Runaan’s full sacrifice. He couldn’t catch his breath, and his hands took on a fierce tremble. With shaking fingers, he brushed a loose strand of hair from Runaan’s forehead. “You took it from me, but you never told me what it would cost. I don’t want to be clean if you are the price I must pay.”

His hands couldn’t settle. They kept touching Runaan’s skin—his cheek, his shoulder, his side—as if it would suddenly warm again on its own. Ethari’s breath was a helpless bellows, and his eyes stung and blurred.

_Wait, wait. What did he say? “Through holding together, through finding balance, the two will remain whole while the touch of dark magic is lost.”_

_Holding together._

Ethari dropped his gaze to the braid made of Runaan’s hair. It still clung to his wrist, and it glowed bright and steady. Its magic was still active, connecting him to Runaan.

Hope soared bright and clear in Ethari’s chest. “We’re still holding together, Runaan,” Ethari muttered. “How do I…?”

 _Find the_ _balance_.

Ethari’s eyes snapped to Runaan’s black-shrouded ones, and he lost his breath all over again. He took Runaan’s wrist and pulled the glowing braid tight again. Then he cupped the back of Runaan’s neck and leaned over him, heedless of everything around him—the pain in his foot was nothing, the clattering of stones was nothing, the gleaming radiance of the sun itself was nothing. Nothing mattered except saving Runaan. No matter what. _There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you._

“ _Sumo Tenebris Tuum_.” Ethari’s lips claimed Runaan’s as if he’d been drowning and found his way to the surface. He inhaled his love and his sins in the same breath. Tasted that dark oily slick along with the sweetness of Runaan’s mouth. _Give it back. Give it back to me. I won’t let him pay for my choices._

Tears spilled over Ethari’s cheeks and fell softly against Runaan’s as the kiss drew out. _Please, please, give him back._ The world brightened and shook around him, and Ethari clung to his beloved, desperate for that sweet miracle.

The miracle blossomed across his tongue like moonlight, tasting of spice and fresh rain. An answering gong resonated deep in his chest, and he felt its echo pulse out from Runaan.

The soul-binding ritual was complete.

Runaan hummed against Ethari’s lips sleepily, as if Ethari had kissed him awake on a lazy morning, and Ethari burst into gloriously happy tears. “Runaan! Runaan, there you are. I thought I’d lost you, my heart! I thought I’d _lost_ you.”

The glow in Runaan’s braid faded, and it turned to wisps of light and dissipated. Runaan blinked slowly, and his eyes gleamed bright turquoise, all trace of dark magic erased. “My heart,” he murmured slowly. “I knew you’d save me. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you what you needed to do.”

Blazing light radiated in on them, as if they’d been lifted to another plane together, buoyed by their unbreakable new bond. Shadows flickered and danced around the edges of Ethari’s vision. “The ritual needed me to prove my worth. To earn the right to bind my soul to yours. To want to save you, as badly as you wanted to save me.”

Runaan’s smile was honey. “Yes. And you did. You are truly my equal, my perfect partner, and my other half. I didn’t need a ritual to tell me that. We are one, Ethari, and we always will be.”

An ecstatic, disbelieving chuckle burst from Ethari’s lips. “Your father’s going to have something to say about that.”

“My father be damned.” Runaan reached up with his damaged hands and took Ethari’s face, bringing him down for a passionate kiss.

“What do you think, Lain?” Tiadrin said loudly. “Should we tell His Moonliness about this rank sedition?”

“Eh. Let them finish kissing first, at least,” Lain said laconically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta once again by the amazing @joelsweet


	10. Moonshadow Balance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lain and Tiadrin rescue their prince and his beloved. The Moonshadow Marauders bond just in time for one last encounter with Sol Regem.

Ethari gasped in shock and broke the kiss at the sudden voices of Runaan’s royal bodyguards. Runaan twitched hard and squinted into the bright light of the sun, which silhouetted Lain’s rangy height and set his shaggy hair and dangling temple braid ablaze.

Tiadrin knelt by their heads, tucking her long navy tunic aside so it didn’t brush against the injured elves. She tucked a thick lock of short white hair behind her ear, rested her elbow atop her knee, and sassed, “We aren’t interrupting anything, are we? You’ve barely got a pair of pants on between the two of you.”

Runaan had the grace to blush. He’d just come back from the dead to find himself flat on his back beneath his bare-chested lover, who was literally kissing him back to life with the most ardent passion Runaan had ever experienced. “No,” he managed, though his cheeks were moonberry red. “We’re done now.”

Tiadrin shot Lain a doubtful smirk. “He says they’re done now. Maybe they do it differently than we do.”

Lain’s laughter wheezed through his broad grin. “I expect they do, woman. Now, let’s get them up and out of here. We asked Sol Regem for a couple of hours to retrieve our prince’s body. Let’s not give the great Sun Archdragon time to realize that the lotus ritual we performed back home has been telling us Runaan’s alive the whole time.” He stepped forward to offer a hand to Ethari.

“Careful,” Runaan said, as he handed his lover off to his friend. “His foot may need a better support before we try to walk out of here.”

Tiadrin commandeered one of Runaan’s damaged hands and held it with expert gentleness. “You great stupid oaf, what’ve you done to yourself? Lain, we can’t leave yet. These brainless fools have near killed themselves, and all they’ve done about it is have a massive snog.”

Lain shared a quick glance with Ethari, copper eyes to copper. The craftsman offered him a winning smile. The royal bodyguard shook his head and sighed. “Let’s get started, then. I don’t know what you two did to irritate Sol Regem, but I’d consider it a personal favor if you didn’t do it again on the way out.”

Runaan leaned heavily on Tiadrin’s shoulder as she helped him stand up. His eyes lingered smilingly on Ethari’s, and the moment grew golden with morning light and sweetness. When he spoke, his voice carried in the small caved-in space, but only Ethari understood the true depth of his words. “I asked you once, Ethari, and then I foolishly changed my mind. I don’t deserve to ask you a second time, but you know my heart.” He offered a tentative hand toward Ethari, and his face glowed with love.

Ethari immediately reached out and gently held his hand. “Then I’ll ask this time.”

Runaan’s eyebrows shot up, and he pressed a soft smile into hiding and nodded.

Ethari hesitated, and his gaze dropped while he took a deep breath. When he met Runaan’s bright gaze again, he let it out with a bracing sigh. “Will you, Runaan?”

Runaan’s smile was radiant, and he ran a thumb over the back of Ethari’s hand. Their eyes clung to each other as if nothing in the world existed except the two of them and their sweet devotion. “I will.”

Lain sighed loudly and said, “What’re they on about, woman? And will they be on about it for much longer? Time, it slips.”

Before Tiadrin could answer, Runaan addressed Lain. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “My betrothed and I won’t have any further trouble from Sol Regem.”

After a shocked pause at Runaan’s casual announcement, Lain and Tiadrin started blurting shocked comments at the same time, excited, demanding, and congratulatory, even as they wrangled Runaan and Ethari down next to each other to tend their wounds.

“ _Betrothed_? I _knew_ it—”

“It’s about time—”

“You have the strangest taste in proposal rituals, Runaan—”

“You two have to tell me _everything_!”

Ethari kept his eyes on Runaan as Lain started checking over his broken foot and the binding Runaan had given it, and his face split into a broad, soft smile. Runaan cupped his cheek and looked him over from head to toe, noting his sanded-down horn and the mess of wounds across his back. When his eyes returned to Ethari’s, Ethari took his other hand and kissed it ever so gently on its injured knuckles.

Tiadrin claimed Runaan’s first hand and brought out her medical kit. Runaan didn’t even look over at her. He leaned toward Ethari for another kiss, and Tiadrin didn’t stop him.

When the couple’s affection dragged out for more than a minute, though, she started complaining loudly. “Lain, we need to hurry. This cave-in is going to fill with marshmallow fluff and we’ll all get trapped and drown. His Moonliness will be so upset that he’ll bring us back from the dead just to fire us and kill us all over again.”

Ethari and Runaan’s kiss broke into chuckles, but they remained close, leaning their foreheads together.

“You’re probably right, sweet,” Lain teased. To Ethari, he murmured just low enough for Runaan to hear, “Good job, mate. Knew you two could do it.”

“Thanks, Lain,” Ethari whispered back. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Tiadrin swiped a foamy antiseptic cream across Runaan’s hand and whipped out a roll of gauze. Under her breath, she whispered, “Runaan, can you tell those fools that I can hear their marshmallow noises plain as day?”

“Yes, Tiadrin.” Runaan leaned back from Ethari as Tiadrin tended to his hand. “She says,” he said in a nice loud voice, “she’s going to roast you two over a fire for being too fluffy.”

Lain propped Ethari’s foot atop his knee and began gently unwrapping it. “Let’s leave the roasting to Sol Regem, shall we? Or have you two had enough of that already?”

“Quite enough,” Runaan replied. He interlaced his fingers with Ethari’s and kissed his beloved’s fingertips.

“Is there anything we need to know about the last day or so since we saw you, my prince?” Tiadrin’s mild question came carefully phrased in formal language. Runaan recognized it for the delicate inquiry it was, and a veil of pretense fell around him. Years—decades—of courtly habits easily lent themselves to his needs. She and Lain did not _need_ to know anything about what Ethari had done, or what Runaan had done to save him. He replied lightly, without even glancing at Ethari. “Not a thing, Tiadrin.”

Ethari flickered his thick dark brows at Runaan curiously, but Runaan just smiled warmly. Tiadrin’s real question involved Runaan’s safety—and by extension, Ethari’s. And now that the purification ritual was complete and his soul was bound to his beloved’s, there was no longer any risk to make his bodyguards aware of.

What he had done in the dark didn’t matter. The ritual was bound to Runaan’s bloodline, not hers. And the other thing he’d nearly done in the dark—it set Runaan’s heart pounding just to think of it. He would never breathe a word of that dark impulse to _anyone_. And he’d spend the rest of his life trying to be worthy of Ethari’s forgiveness.

“Runaan?” Ethari murmured.

Runaan’s vision cleared to reveal that he was staring at the stone floor. “I’m fine,” he said, in what he hoped was a reassuring tone.

But Ethari didn’t buy it. He set a hand over Runaan’s heart and pressed lightly, until Runaan could feel the warmth of that callused palm sink into his skin. Just knowing that Ethari could feel the lie in Runaan’s heartbeat made it skip a beat and stutter into a faster pace.

Ethari didn’t call him on it, though. He smiled and leaned closer, brushing Runaan’s nose with his own to encourage a kiss, which Runaan softly shared with him. Against Runaan’s lips, Ethari murmured, “I don’t need to touch you to know how you feel, my heart. So I hope you know how _I_ feel right now.”

Runaan pulled back and met his eyes questioningly. Ethari smiled and gave him an encouraging nod. Runaan’s brows shot up, and he immediately closed his eyes and quested toward Ethari with his heart.

The bond was there. And Ethari’s soul pulsed glowingly at the other end of it.

Runaan’s eyes flew open, and he gasped sharply through his nose. Ethari helped him cover his startlement by kissing him again, and Runaan pressed into the kiss gratefully. Already, Ethari was reading his heart, sensing his need for that stable, balanced appearance, and providing chances to keep private those things which Runaan wished to hold closest to his heart. “I love you more than the Moon itself,” Runaan murmured, and he meant it with every fiber of his being.

Tiadrin’s hands paused on Runaan’s bandaged hand. “Well now. That sounds pretty serious. Lain, we can’t wait a moment longer.”

Lain had rewrapped Ethari’s foot and was busying himself with a walking brace made from his and Tiadrin’s sheaths, a folded shirt for padding, and some sturdy leather bindings. As he strapped it to Ethari’s knee to serve as an extra foot to put his weight on instead of that broken bone, he heard Tiadrin’s urgent tone and looked over. “You’re right, sweet. It has to be ready by the time we get back to the Silvergrove.”

Ethari blinked and glanced between the two of them. “What’re you two on about?”

Tiadrin’s smile was blinding, while Runaan just closed his eyes and shook his head with a tiny grin. “Your softness is a safety hazard, Ethari,” Tiadrin began. “It’ll rot people’s teeth at twenty paces. We can’t wait any longer to begin planning your wedding. Lain and I will decide everything on the walk home, and we’ll simply alert your father’s scribe, Runaan, so he can put the royal wedding on the official Moonshadow Forest social calendar.”

“I’m sorry, you’ll what?” Ethari blurted. “Why do _you_ get to decide our wedding details?”

“No, don’t—” Runaan began.

“Ohh. I didn’t realize you wanted to _participate_ ,” Tiadrin cooed. On Ethari’s other side, Lain snickered. “ _Well_ then. You’re welcome to discuss absolutely everything with us!”

“Moon help me,” Runaan muttered.

“…What am I missing?” Ethari ventured to ask.

Lain patted his knee comfortingly as he bound the walking brace into place. “Oh, she’s just been planning Runaan’s royal wedding for five years now, in her head. Even before he met you! And there’s no stopping it now that you’re betrothed. But you’ve got the right idea, hopping on board. It’s the only way to have any hope of steering it where you want it to go.”

“Ethari,” Tiadrin said loudly, pointedly ignoring Runaan, who was avoiding meeting her eyes. “How do you feel on the subject of sashes? Sashes and cuffs? With or without silver charm dangles?”

“For… what?” Ethari asked tentatively. “Horn jewelry?”

The long, slow, dramatic gasp that emanated from Tiadrin’s mouth made Runaan squint one eye and wince, and Ethari worried he’d said exactly the wrong thing.

“Oh, mate, now you’ve gone and done it,” Lain warned.

“What? What’d I say?” Ethari worried aloud.

“I never thought of that before,” Tiadrin blurted, “but moon and shadow, _yes_! An excellent counterpart to the standard courtly adornments, but displayed just differently enough to expand tradition rather than subvert it. Maybe I can even incorporate that idea into the presentation of your horn cuffs. It’s just the thing to set your wedding apart and start a new fashion trend!”

Runaan opened his eye again and smiled apologetically at Ethari. “Yes, my heart. Im afraid it’s going to be like this from now on. I hope you know what you’ve started.”

Ethari met Tiadrin’s gaze and grinned, radiating with excitement, love, and just a smidge of terror. She winked sassily at him, and he found Runaan’s eyes with his own. “A life with you, my shade. That’s what I’ve started. Come what may.”

“Ah, Tiadrin,” Lain cried, clapping a hand to his chest. “I can see now why our hard and crusty prince needed to go rescue his soft but sturdy lover from Katolis. He’s so romantic! I may cry.”

Tiadrin flicked the air in the direction of Lain’s horns. “You do it so I don’t have to. I’m patching up our prince over here, and I can’t see to bind his wounds if my eyes are full of tears. Runaan, your other hand, before your intended makes me weep with joy and snap off one of your fingers by mistake.”

Runaan offered Ethari a soft smile as he shifted and gave Tiadrin his other injured hand for binding. The bodyguards finished patching up the happy couple, made some light repairs on Runaan’s shirts—for Ethari’s was a total loss after skidding across the canyon floor—and helped them dress and get ready for travel, with Ethari sporting a new tank top made from the remains of Runaan’s dark green tunic, and his dusty purple scarf nestled around his neck as always. Runaan shrugged his way into his green shirt and protective vest again, and the weight of the responsibility they carried settled over him along with the cool kiss of the fabric. Balmberries were shared, waterskins passed, and Tiadrin bound Runaan’s hair back into its braid for him while Lain helped Ethari adjust to his walking brace.

“What’s this?” she murmured from behind his shoulder.

“Hmm?”

“Runaan, a lock of your hair’s been shorn off. Did Sol Regem…?” A dangerous growl entered her voice.

“No. It’s fine, Tiadrin,” Runaan quickly reassured her.

Her fingers didn’t pick up their weaving, remaining still amidst his thick white hair. “So you’re not even going to offer me a light illusion as to why this happened?”

Runaan looked to Ethari. The sturdy craftsman was hobbling around with a hand on Lain’s shoulder and a knee atop the matching sheaths Lain had strapped in place. His knee bent, safely holding his broken foot off the ground, while the sheaths bore his weight. He wobbled, nearly falling, and chuckled with Lain, in high spirits. Runaan could feel something of his contentment, his elation, and his gratitude sifting through their new soul bond.

With a soft smile, Runaan returned his attention to Tiadrin. “I can ask Ethari to braid my hair if you’ve forgotten how I style it,” he teased.

Tiadrin’s fingers jerked into motion. “Your Highness is too kind,” she sassed, “but I know my duties just fine.” And prying wasn’t one of them. She finished his braid, tucking the remains of his shorn lock deep inside the rest of his hair, and set his hair cuff in place.

“All right, lovebirds,” she said. “Ready to go home?”

The four elves moved slowly from the caved-in hollow that had sheltered Runaan and Ethari for the past day. After some deliberation, Runaan led the way with Tiadrin at his side, while Lain walked with Ethari to watch over his stride and balance. Despite Tiadrin’s threats to begin planning the prince’s wedding immediately, the group said nothing as they crossed the canyon floor, heading eastward toward the Moonshadow Forest. Tiadrin’s silence was a wary one, and her eyes raked the canyon tops. Runaan slowed his usual stride so Ethari could keep up, but tension rode high on his shoulders. Sol Regem would find them again. He could feel it.

Within sight of the far end of the canyon, a dark shadow fell across the elves. Sol Regem’s bony crown hung silhouetted in the sky overhead as the archdragon leaned over the canyon from atop the high stone cliff to the south. “Travelers,” he boomed, by way of greeting.

Tiadrin immediately stepped in front of Runaan, and Lain stepped forward beside his prince as well. Their weapons flared out defensively and glinted in the morning light.

Runaan held up a hand, forestalling their protective instincts, though his heart thudded hard. The ritual had worked. It had. He could feel it. But would Sol Regem agree? “Great dragon,” he began, “how lucky that we survived our untimely imprisonment in that unfortunate rockfall. But my bodyguards have rescued us and are taking us home where we belong. Give us your leave to pass into Xadia, and we won’t trouble you again.”

Sol Regem’s head dipped low, and he breathed deeply, sucking in air with a harsh rumble. Ethari hissed a gasp through his teeth, remembering the dragon’s earlier fury, but he held his ground. Runaan eased back beside him and gently interweaved his fingers with Ethari’s, mindful of his own bandages. Tiadrin’s gaze locked onto the dragon, but Lain eyed the lovers curiously.

Ethari’s eyes were wide as he looked at Runaan, but Runaan’s smile was soft and easy. “Feel it, Ethari. It’s going to be alright. We’re going home.”

The bond between them glimmered like moonlight, free and pure. Ethari gingerly squeezed Runaan’s hand in silent reply.

Sol Regem snorted so hard that it blew everyone’s hair back, and Runaan had to steady Ethari on his peg brace. “It seems, little princeling,” the dragon said slowly, “that you are more resourceful than you look. I shall remember your talents.”

“Those talents are mine to speak of, Great Dragon,” Runaan dared to say. “Your silence will cost you nothing. And I will count it a great favor, atop the favor of your understanding. I offer you a bow of reconciliation for your mercy and generosity, as a sign of my gratitude.” And with that, Runaan bowed, tugging lightly on Ethari’s hand until the craftsman joined him. Lain and Tiadrin swiftly copied them, always quick to follow their prince’s lead in matters of politics.

A reverberating hum sounded from the blind dragon’s long throat, conveying thoughtfulness and perhaps a hint of approval. “On your way then, Moonshadow prince. And…” Sol Regem sniffed deeply again, filling the bellows of his chest with a warm gust that tugged again on everyone’s hair. “Congratulations.”

Ethari shot a swift, questioning glance at Runaan, but the assassin merely lifted his eyebrows and smiled. It didn’t matter what Sol Regem was congratulating Runaan for—his engagement, his cleverness, his determination, his mere survival. Runaan was returning to Xadia with Ethari on his arm. And they’d never be parted again, no matter what.

He lifted Ethari’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against its back. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once more to @joelsweet for beta help!


End file.
